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Good Morning Little Schoolgirl	By : Linda_Linda Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Led Zeppelin Views: 4197 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is unfortunately a work of FICTION (the OC is, uhm, high-school me). I do not know Jimmy Page or Led Zeppelin. I make NO money from this. Pairing: Jimmy Page/author.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
A/N: Yes, it's true...I was a lazy girl and didn't post for awhile...you dig. Sorry. Here it is.
For a few weeks, all is well. Situation normal. Happy days spent reading occult books from Jimmy’s bookshelves, lounging in the tub, opening and enjoying Christmas presents on Christmas, playing guitar, eating, sleeping, lovemaking, talking, listening to the radio. It is that last thing that shakes everything up like the little houses in a snow-globe that came unglued and tumble about with not a care about who they land on.

One evening, while eating dinner and listening to the radio, an emergency announcement is made. I, being absorbed in the delicious meal, take no notice until Jimmy nearly chokes on his food in shock.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

He shakes his head furiously and points at the radio. “Listen,” he says, having regained his breath.

“…in the area. I repeat, a young girl is missing from her home in ______ and has not been seen since 17 December. Her name is Linda Blank and she looks like…” The DJ continues to describe me down to the most minute detail. “Miss Blank was last seen at her school. She may still be in the area. If you have any information on her whereabouts, call 55555. Her mother is extremely worried about her.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes at that and mutters, “I’m more worried about you now than she ever was.”

The DJ resumes, “Here is a pre-recorded message from her mother.”

I move to turn off the radio but Jimmy grabs my arm. “At least let her talk.”

“That’s all she ever did!” I protest but stop when I hear her despicable disembodied voice, feigning worry and sorrow:

“Linda, please come home. Please, honey, I miss you and I love you!...” – her voice becomes sharp and harsh – “give her back. Let her go or I SWEAR...I WILL FIND YOU AND KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS YOU SORRY PIECE OF-”

The recording clicks off abruptly and the DJ whistles. “Just turned the air blue there. My apologies, listeners – we had some trouble with the censors for a moment and-”

Before he can finish, I put my foot through the speaker firmly, silencing the voices that threaten our lives.

Jimmy is dumbstruck for a minute, trembling in fury. When he finally does speak, his voice is dangerously soft.

“No. No way am I letting her lay a finger on you ever again.” He stands up and pulls me to him. I drop my fork and knife and they clatter to the floor. He holds me tight. “How did I know this would happen…?”

******

We get the hell out of there within an hour after. Jimmy tells me about an abandoned house in the country, just a few miles from here. “Nobody visits it, probably nobody even knows it exists,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“I left some money there once and when I came back three months later, it was still there.”

I want to take the car, with the blankets and heavy things we have to carry; but Jimmy says no, people might see the license plate. So we walk, late into the night, holding hands through the snow, with a lantern to light the way. Jimmy knows exactly which way to go, where to turn. And when my feet hurt, or my fingers ache with cold, he takes my mind off it by pointing up at the constellations of the stars, clearer now than in the city, and the beauty distracts me.

“This it?” I ask when we come to a small building on a hill. There isn’t even an address, little metal numbers nailed over the door. Nothing.

“Yes, it is,” he replies. “You and I just walked about four miles to get here.”

“My feet agree,” I laugh and tug at his hand. “C’mon, let’s go inside and get warmed up.”

The little house seems larger from the inside, as many do. Even in the meager light of an old-fashioned lantern, you can tell it’s empty, and lonely-feeling, with no pictures on the walls. No blankets in the beds or dishes in the sink. No food in the cupboards or televisions or irons plugged into the outlets. The house misses people and life.

I take off my coat – actually Jimmy’s coat that he lent me, but might as well let me keep because he never wanted it back – and hang it by the door. I pull my boots off and wobble a bit without anything to balance on. The things we carried lay on the floor in front of us. I put the blankets in the single large bed and some food in the cupboard…

And am woken up by Jimmy gently shaking my shoulder. “My lord, you’re so tired you fell asleep sitting up. Poor baby.”

I jerk in fright, thinking sleepily that I’m still at Jimmy’s house and they've found us. But I open my eyes a second to see – not the unfamiliar face of some law enforcement officer, but Jimmy’s. I moan and grumble softly in annoyed relief as he slides his arms under my back and legs, picking me up and carrying me to the bed long unslept in. “But…I still need to put away the…”

“Shhhhh. You can do it tomorrow…tomorrow.” He kisses my cheek, then nibbles at my upper lip and kisses the cold tip of my nose. There is no heating here – only the fireplace can do that job, and it hasn't even been lit. He lays me down on the bed and undresses me completely. I shiver and protest unintelligibly at the frigid air and Jimmy lifts me a bit, then pulls two thick blankets over me. Gratefully I snuggle into them.

“Come to bed with me,” I whine. After a few weeks of life with him I can hardly imagine sleeping alone anymore.

“Patience, sweetness,” he whispers, and I hear a rustling sound as he sheds the last of his clothes and climbs in next to me. The bed creaks and groans as if it’s dying. It’s not used to having people sleeping in it. Jimmy finds me in the dark with two chilly hands. “Here I am.”

“Your hands are cold, stop it,” I giggle.

“Stop what?” he teases and slides one hand down from my shoulder to my breast. The coolness of his skin is an interesting feeling. He brushes my nipple with the back of his cold hand and it stiffens immediately. “Hmmmm,” he murmurs, “methinks you like that.”

He leans his head on my shoulder and I reach up to dally with his hair. “Can I ask you something?”
(There will be more, I promise.) ;)
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Good Morning Little Schoolgirl